Free Z-Burbia 7: Sisters of the Apocalypse by Jake Bible Page A

is locked onto what you're doing in that moment, but your subconscious is planning the next step. You go on skill and let instinct guide that skill.
    His words, not mine.
    My words would be: you shoot the first shitfucker then shoot the next shitfucker then shoot the shitfuckers after that and don't get yourself shot while you are shooting shitfuckers. It's pretty simple.
    That's what we do.
    I'm on point with both pistols up and firing. I have a bead on the first shooter, probably the one that took down Steph, and I put two slugs in his chest then one between his eyes. My attention moves to the next guy, but I don't have an angle so I dive to the floor and roll out of his line of fire.
    Audrey comes in after me and she takes down the next guy, moves out of the way for Antoinette, and she takes the third guy. I'm back up and leaning over the railing, my pistols searching for guy number four. He pops his head out to see what's up. Guess what? I'm up and he's down because I blow his shitfucking head off.
    Fifth guy makes an appearance and this guy has a shotgun so shit gets messy. 12-gauge buckshot. Stupid in a tactical situation, but not a bad idea in a defensive situation. And this shitfucker is on the defensive since he's now all alone and has four very, very, very pissed off rage chicks coming for him with automatic weapons.
    And blades. If I catch this shitfucker alive, I am so gonna use my blades on his ass. I will also use my blades on his cock and balls. Possibly his toes and fingers, but mainly on his cock and balls. Snip, snip, motherfucker.
    He is firing wild, just pointing the shotgun behind him as he races down the stairs.
    "There'll be more down there waiting!" Marcie shouts as we sprint down the stairs, our feet only hitting every third or fourth step.
    "That means more to kill!" Audrey shouts back.
    "Roger that!" Antoinette yells.
    "Fuck yeah!" I scream as we keep chasing the shotgun Doyle.
    I assume they're all called Doyle. If this town is fucked up enough to have a bunch of Inezes then it is gonna have a bunch of Doyles. That's how crazies work in the apocalypse. Stupid, shitfucking crazies.
    Second floor door bursts open and a shirtless man that has to weigh like four hundred pounds comes out like that Rambo guy from that movie when I was a kid. He's got an M-60 machine gun in one hand and he's feeding the belt of cartridges into it with the other. The concrete around us turns into shrapnel and we all throw ourselves over the railing and fall the last few feet to the ground floor.
    The fat guy stops shooting and actually says, "Huh?" before he looks over the railing to see where we've gone. He does that. He looks over the railing. Doesn't shoot at us, just looks. Hard to say which one of us fires first, but it don't matter in the end. His head turns to mist and he tumbles down after us, machine gun gripped in his dead hands.
    "Dibs!" Audrey yells and slings her rifle as she yanks the M-60 from Dead Fat Boy's hands. She checks the action, makes sure the belt isn't tangled, and aims at the door to the first floor. "Ready!"
    Marcie yanks the door open and Audrey opens fire. She walks slowly from the stairwell, spraying bullets everywhere. Marcie was right, they are waiting for us. Close to a dozen men, all with automatic rifles or shotguns, start to dance and scream as they are ripped apart by heavy caliber slugs.
    Once there is room, we follow after Audrey, laying down some backup fire, making sure the ones that didn't go down right away for sure go down next. Blood splatters everywhere. The first floor is nothing but a pool of red by the time Audrey's M-60 clicks empty and she throws it aside.
    "Where's Froggy Girl?" Audrey snaps, spinning about with her rifle back in her hands.
    "Here," Froggy Girl whispers as she peeks her head out from the stairwell door. Her eyes go wide as she sees the corpses. "Oh…"
    "Fucking A yeah, oh," Audrey says and points down the hall to the basement door. "How many Doyles are